


Admiral

by puszysty



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Gen, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-16
Updated: 2009-03-16
Packaged: 2017-10-08 13:59:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/76350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puszysty/pseuds/puszysty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Inspired by Daybreak Pt 1 (written before Pt 2)</p>
    </blockquote>





	Admiral

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Daybreak Pt 1 (written before Pt 2)

Admiral. Never in his life had he dreamed of becoming Admiral. Before the attack on the colonies, he'd planned on retiring from battlestars and going to teach math at the academy. Now here he was, leader of the only fleet left in the universe.

Of course, the only reason he'd been so highly promoted was because the rest of Galactica's upper echelon was dead. Adama, Tigh, Helo, Starbuck, all dead. He had been lucky enough, if lucky was the word, to make it back to the fleet in the raptor carrying Baltar, Caprica Six, and Hera. Racetrack had shoved him in, saying they needed someone competent to lead the fleet to their new home. He spent the entire trip back wondering why she thought he was up to the job.

Admiral Hoshi. It even sounded awkward.

Louis glanced around the control room of the cylon base ship. Another thing that didn't feel right. He didn't know the first thing about how a cylon ship operated. He'd never even seen the inside of one until they had stormed the Colony. The cylons assured him they would keep the base ship operating, but it seemed like one of the essential duties of Admiral, to know how to fly the ship he was supposed to be in charge of.

"The fleet needs you," he kept telling himself. It wasn't reassuring.

At least one thing was clear, however. The fleet now had one mission and one mission only: find a planet to call home. The first step would be to jump the hell out of here, away from the memories of a fallen Galactica. Now, who plotted the jumps around here?

"Lieutenant Gaeta, set coordinates for our next jump." There was no response. Just lots of heavy eyes on him. Louis put his face in his hands. Gods, how could he have forgotten something like that?

"Sir, Lieutenant Gaeta is-"

"Dead. I know," he addressed Petty Officer..something. That's all he had left now, petty officers, none of whom he knew their names. Who had been plotting the jumps for Galactica? He had. He'd just been imagining it was Felix's fingers on the console instead of his, because thinking otherwise made him sick to his stomach.

"Colonel - no, he's dead too." Gods, they were all dead, weren't they? He felt sick already. "Does anyone around here know how to plot a jump?"

 

After one of the Leobens had stepped up and made the jump, Louis decided he needed to go see the only high ranking official left in the fleet.

"Major," he asked. "How am I supposed to run a fleet?"

"Don't ask me kid, you're the one who's got to figure that out," said Cottle, removing the cigar from his mouth. "The fleet's expecting you to address them about what happened to Galactica. They need some answers, kid."

"Doc, surely you've got some advice," begged Hoshi. "I heard you once commanded an entire service hospital, you have to know something. Everybody's dead, the government is in shambles, and we still haven't found a habitable planet. I can't do this by myself!" Louis realized he was losing his cool. It wasn't very Admiral-like of him. Adama never lost his cool. It felt like further proof that he wasn't cut out for this.

Cottle clasped him on the shoulder. "I'm just the guy who tends wounds and hands out medication. You want advice on how to lead people, talk to Baltar. He'll at least give you an idea of what not to do. But first, go address the fleet. They need it."

 

Louis picked up the radio transmitter, his hand trembling. He hated giving speeches, they made him nervous. Slowly raising the transmitter to his lips, he silently wished Racetrack had never shoved him into that raptor.

"People of the fleet," he choked out. The hand holding the speech he'd scribbled out on paper beforehand was shaking uncontrollably. "People of the fleet," he repeated, clearer this time. "This is your new Admiral speaking." The title still felt weird on his lips. "As you know, the Battlestar Galactica recently embarked on a mission to destroy the enemy cylon forces and rescue a little girl believed to be the hope for the future. This mission was a success. The girl is back among the fleet, and the enemy forces have been extinguished. They no longer pose a threat to our continued survival. However," Louis paused and swallowed. "Most of Galactica's crew was lost. All senior officials, including Admiral Adama himself, perished in the battle. Also lost to us were President Roslin and President Adama. We ask that the gods care for their souls. We mourn their loss, but continue on their dream of finding a new home, where we may all live in peace." His stomach churned, his heart racing, as he barely managed the last words of his speech. "So say we all."

The command center echoed with applause. Louis acknowledged them with a grateful nod. Then he made his way to the ship latrines and proceeded to empty the contents of his stomach.

 

Louis sat in his quarters, still reeling from the last few days. It didn't feel right, sitting in Admiral's quarters, boxes piled around the room, all labeled 'Adama'. He couldn't bring himself to open any of them. The room pulsed around him in a glowing red light; he didn't know if he would ever get used to that either. His speech had gone over well among the fleet, but people were now buzzing about exactly who was this new Admiral, the man who was supposed to be their leader. Louis didn't know if he had an answer for them.

Someone knocked on his door. "Come in," he directed.

It was Gaius Baltar. "I understand you wished to see me, Sir."

Louis gestured him over to the couch. "I asked for you two days ago, but yes, come in."

"I'm very sorry Sir, I've been rather busy lately-" Gaius began.

"No, I understand. You're trying to take care of a little girl, one who's just lost both her parents. It wasn't any rush, Dr. Baltar."

"Do you need me to study star maps for you Sir?" Gaius asked.

"That would be helpful, but that's not why I asked to see you. I need your advice. You've held a position of leadership in this fleet, and I really need to know how it's done."

"Admiral," said Gaius. It didn't sound right on someone else's lips either. "Surely you know I'm not the person to be asking for political advice."

"Cottle said you'd at least know what not to do. Look, Dr. Baltar, I wasn't expecting to be in this position, and I don't have the slightest idea what to do here. I need any kind of help I can get."

"Look Admiral Hoshi," Gaius said, clasping his hands in front of him and looking the more dignified one in the room. "When I became president, I didn't have a frak's idea on how to run..well, let's be honest, anything. When Roslin became president of the colonies after the attack, she didn't have any idea how to run things either, and I must concede, she did a much better job than I think anyone else could have at the time. Even your dear Felix, he didn't know how to command a fleet, but he managed well, however briefly. We've all been thrust into positions we weren't prepared for, Admiral. You'll figure it out."

That had been what Cottle said as well. Louis wondered what it was that made him like those other leaders.

 

Louis stood in the command center, mentally reciting everyone's names. 'Smith, Andrews, Cartwright..' Admiral Adama had known the names of every single person under his command, from the CIC to the deck hands. Louis didn't know how the Old Man had done it. He had enough trouble trying to remember the names of the eleven humans who worked here. 'Fuller? No, Fowler. Or is it Freller?' At least the cylons were easy.

Racetrack and Skulls dashed in to the command center, looking harried. That wasn't a good sign. He'd assigned them to keeping tabs on the condition of the fleet, along with the other two remaining raptor crews. Their sudden arrival meant that something was wrong aboard one of the ships.

"Captains," he addressed them.

"Sir," panted Racetrack. "The fleet. They're saying they want to split away from the base ship."

"What?!" exclaimed Louis. This wasn't bad. This was worse than bad.

"They said that now that the enemy threat is gone, they don't need the protection of the base ship anymore. That they'd rather go find a home on their own- for humans."

He should've seen this coming. The fleet had only kept the cylons around because they were useful, not because they liked them. And now that they weren't useful anymore... Oh Gods. Felix had tried to warn him about this. Those feelings he'd had, the deep hurt by what the cylons had done to humanity, those weren't felt by Felix alone, and they hadn't died with him. And he, Louis Hoshi, had been stupid enough not to listen.

"How many?" he asked. "How many ships are talking about leaving?"

"From what we can tell," said Skulls. "All of them."

Oh Gods. He was frakked.

"What would Admiral Adama have done?" Louis thought. He knew what Adama would do. Order the fleet to listen, then threaten to blow them out of the sky if he had to. President Roslin would have given some grandiose speech, rallying the fleet behind her. All that was impossible now. The fleet had no president, no recognizable figure of any kind, and the only forces he had left were three raptor crews, two marines, and Hot Dog. He couldn't have done it anyway, threaten to blow them out of the sky. He was supposed to be protecting the fleet, not killing them off.

He needed time to think. "Go see how serious the fleet is about this. See if they're willing to talk," he directed Racetrack and Skulls. "Stinson."

"It's Simpson, Sir."

Louis shook his head. Simpson. Communications Officer. Of course. "Right. Tell the other raptor pilots to do the same. I'm going someplace to think. Page me when we have news."

 

Louis caught up with Racetrack and Skulls as they were on their way back to the raptor. "Captain...Racetrack," he said.

"Sir?" she asked, turning to face him.

"Why'd you shove me in that raptor back on Galactica? What makes you think I'm capable of being the Admiral?"

"Because, Sir...Louis," she replied. "If anyone can stop the fleet from leaving? It's you."

 

Louis paced the halls. He still wasn't sure what Racetrack meant. He didn't have the bravado to handle things the way Adama did, nor the unwavering nerve of President Roslin, he didn't have the do or die creedo of Cain, nor the justice above all attitude of Apollo. Cottle had no advice for him, nor did Baltar. None of the old leaders were of any help to him.

Louis stopped. He'd spent this entire time asking what everyone else would do in his place. But there was one person he'd never even thought to ask. What would Louis Hoshi do?

 

Louis returned to the CIC, posture straight, no longer feeling sick to his stomach.

"Sir, we've just received word that the fleet is spooling up their FTL drives. We have a real mutiny on our hands."

Louis glared at Simpson. "No one uses the word mutiny around me, got that? They're dissenting. Get me on the fleetwide intercom."

Louis picked up the radio transmitter, hand shaking ever so slightly, but a lot more sure than the last time he'd done this. "People of the fleet," he said. "This is the Admiral speaking. I don't believe we've been properly introduced. My name is Louis Hoshi. I served on the Battlestar Pegasus for nine years before joining the crew of Galactica. I've spent my life making mathematical calculations, jumping our ships from one system to the next.

I might serve in the military, but I'm just a person, the same as everyone on this fleet. I grew up on the planet Libron; my family died there during the attack on the colonies. My boyfriend was Felix Gaeta. He died trying to be heard by people who wouldn't listen. I'm listening now. I understand how you all feel. But please, I'm not ordering you, I'm asking you, don't abandon us. During the last five years, we've all lost people we cared about: friends, families, lovers. After this new allegiance, it may seem like those people died for nothing. They didn't. They died so that those of us who remain could start over, have a new beginning.

If you abandon those of us aboard the base ship, you will regret it. Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not in a year, but someday. Because by leaving, you're telling us that a new beginning isn't possible. That the only life that you're willing to accept is the old one, the one that led us into deep space in the first place. And then those people we've all lost really will have died for nothing.

You might not need our protection, or our leadership, but you do need us. As people. So please, I ask you again, don't leave us behind."

Loius hung up the transmitter and exhaled deeply. There was nothing to do now but wait. He hoped the fleet had understood just what it was he was trying to say and wouldn't abandon his ship of people in deep space.

"Admiral," announced Simpson. "We're getting word the fleet's powering down their FTLs. They're staying, Sir."

Louis sighed with relief. He'd done it. He'd kept the fleet together, and he'd done it in a way only he could.

His staff appluaded him. "Congratulations Admiral," they said.

Admiral. Now it felt right.


End file.
